He’s dressed to the nines. Full three-piece black suit, pocket square and matching tie, shoes shinier than slick ice. He’s a man of power and fear with a face that Alexis could never forget. How could she when she wore a constant reminder of him around her neck?
Whether he could sense her company or merely heard her gasp of air, she’d never knew. But Alexis made no mistake that his eyes mirrored the same amount of confusion as hers when they landed on her face just as she closed the door completely.
With a shove, she heaved the chair under the doorknob, locking the door in place temporarily. As if the god Mercury had taken over her body, Alexis moved as fast as lightning through the hall to the abandoned room.
With the help of the chair, she was able to remove the vent cover and jump into the metal shaft.
“Which way, Heath?”
“Go to your right five yards, then you’ll meet a fake barrier.”
She aimlessly followed his direction in the bleakness until her head bumped against a wall. With all her might, Alexis shoved at the false wall until it gave way. Dirt and rocks crumbled around her as she maneuvered her body out of the tunnel.
“I’m out,” she breathed in relief as she pushed up from her knees to stand.
“Head two miles to your left toward the canal then continue for five miles. That’s where I’ll pick you up.”
Alexis scrambled away from the opening, tripping over her own feet in the process, the sandy ground coating her hands as she braced herself against the fall. But she knew there was no time to waste, the sounds of heavy feet closed in as the goonies raced after her.
She weaved in and out of trees until she reached the small canal of water Heath described.
“I’m at the water,” Alexis declared as she moved back into the tree line, staying out of the sight of the men chasing her. Thank goodness for the years in high school running long-distance because if there was ever a time to need the stamina to run for long distances, then that was this moment.
Steadying her breaths, Alexis listened to the pounding of her feet on the ground as she weaved around the trees and bushes. To her horror, an opening lay ahead, and knowing that she’s only about three miles into her trek, she realized that she’s about to make herself an open target.
The men couldn’t be too far behind her, they don’t appear to be the kind that gave up easily. With a deep inhale, letting the air fill her lungs, Alexis prepared herself for the sprint.
She turned to look over her shoulder and caught the eye of a man quickly approaching. She aimed her gun in his direction and pulled the trigger. Her shot hit the target dead-on, a surprise to Alexis due to her wavering energy, and the man fell to the ground.
Four more men approached her line of sight, just far enough away that she should be able to cut across the clearing just in time – hopefully.
With one final prayer, Alexis tucked her gun in its holster, took a deep breath, and ran for her life. Her feet pounded the surface, the dark night sky doing little to illuminate the area around her. She’s thankful for the night-vision goggles that offered some form of illumination.
But the other men must have a pair as well because just as she reached the endpoint of her sprint, a bullet soared by her head, lodging itself in a nearby tree.
Three more shots fire off.
Pain. Excruciating pain overtook her as bullets hit her shoulder and thigh, both threatening to bring her to her knees. But Alexis knew that if she faltered now, she’d have no escape. This was her only chance out.
Miraculously she made it to the woods and ducked behind a large tree truck, hunkering down toward the ground, as close to the sandy soil as possible. Ripping her gun free from its holster, she peered around the tree, trigger poised at the ready.
Despite the wound on her dominant shoulder, she knew she could still expertly aim and shoot; Alexis always practiced shooting giving both hands time on the trigger.
The first man came within the scope and Alexis fired off two shots, then turned her attention to the other three men approaching, proficiently taking them out as well.
She continued to scan the surrounding area, not finding anything amiss, then turned back behind the tree.
“Heath, I’ve been hit. Took out five men. I’m just outside the clearing.”
“Sit tight until I’ve located you. Don’t move.”
Her vision began to swirl as she rested against the tree. Through the haze Alexis slipped her belt free from her pants and fastened it around her thigh, just above the bullet wound. She tensed as she took in the amount of blood pouring from her leg and couldn’t imagine that her shoulder looked any better.
“I’m losing a lot of blood.”
“Fuck. I’m coming for you, okay? Don’t go out on me,” Heath cried out. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Alexis did her best to stay coherent, but the need to close her eyes was overwhelming. Her body fell to the right, landing on her injured shoulder and leg, a grunt sounds from her throat at the contact.
She knew that her consciousness was slipping away. Too much blood loss. Too much adrenaline. Too much fear.
Slipping the goggles from her eyes, she peered up at the night sky through the trees, a lone star twinkling far off in the distance.
“Heath. When was the last time you stared up at the sky? I mean really looked at the stars?”
She knew that her words were on the edge of peculiarity, but couldn’t find a way to restrain them.
“Alexis? Hang on. I’m close.”
“Oh, the pretty star is fading. That’s sad.” Even to her own ears, she knew that she sounds different, spoke differently.
“If I die, will you. . .”
“You’re not going to die, Alexis.”
“I’m going to go to sleep now. So tired,” she whispered, unsure if Heath could make out her voice.
She heard her name off in the distance, a gentle buzzing in her ear as she settled in to sleep. Behind her closed eyes, Alexis’ mind lands on an image of a man with brown eyes before the shadows encompassed her completely.
Chapter Two
Angie’s diner was one of Cliff’s favorite places. Not only was it a hub for everyone in town, but it overflowed with local gossip. He could subtly learn whatever he needed without attracting attention to himself.
At one time, Cliff feared places like this one. The fear of everyone watching his next move, fear of someone with a more sinister plot following him through the diner’s red door and hurting the people that welcomed him without question.
It took years, and a hearty push by the Lady Busy Bees, for him to willingly come inside the restaurant. Now it was so routine the servers knew what to bring him based on which day of the week it was. Predictability was one of Cliff’s mottos.
Years spent overseas, days and nights moving him to thousands of different locations, took its toll. Cliff gave up on the idea of spontaneity a long time ago.
“Same as usual, sugar?” Ethel, the older waitress, asked with a wink.
“You got it,” he replied as he moved toward the back of the diner, sliding onto the vinyl bench with his gaze trained on the door. He may not be active duty any longer, but knowing who was coming and going gave him a sense of peace. The large room in the back, used for banquets and parties, was only open at dinner or special occasions, so he knew there would be no surprises.
“Here’s your coffee. I’ll have your food right out.” Ethel sat the steaming mug in front of him and scurried back behind the counter.
Cliff sipped from the mug, watching the older crowd disperse from their stools as younger couples and families descended on the restaurant. It was Saturday, and in Carson, that meant the Farmer’s Market was about to be in full swing. It took Cliff a while to feel comfortable in the oversized crowd. Not only the locals attended the two-block gathering, but vendors and residents from six counties surrounding Carson came in full force. Especially when the weather was as nice as it was on this particular weeken
d.
A few minutes later, Ethel sat down a plate with Cliff’s breakfast. The smell of the perfectly cooked bacon and scrambled eggs reached his nose. A sudden memory popped into his mind of the last time he had scrambled eggs before moving to Carson and his heart clenched.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Shaking his mind free of the memory, Cliff turned his attention toward Ethel and smiled. “This looks delicious. Thank you.”
With an over-exaggerated motion, Ethel flicked her hand up and down in front of her face as if cooling herself off. “Whew. Son, if you keep smiling like that, the brains of every woman in town will be scrambled like those eggs.”
The older woman walked away continuing to fan herself, leaving Cliff to his meal. But just as he lifted a hearty forkful of the egg to his mouth the bench across from him squeaked. Without lifting his head, Cliff looked across the table to find his friend Logan, a local doctor and Avery Connelly’s husband, looking at him with narrowed eyes. The man gave off an air of anger and Cliff wasn’t quite sure why.
“Hey, man.” Cliff greeted his friend, trying to defuse the situation as he took a bite of food on the fork still held in the air.
“You missed Mama Connelly’s dinner last Sunday.”
It was a well-established rule in Carson that if you were invited to the Connelly’s family dinner on Sundays, you were expected to attend. But Cliff had been asked every week for the last two years and declined every single time.
“I’ve never made it to a single one. I’m surprised she still asked.”
A look of disbelief and shock registered on Logan’s face and Cliff had to wonder if there was something he was missing.
“You helped save and protect her family, Cliff. She considers you family.”
“Which means. . .?” Cliff let the question hang in the air for a moment.
“Which means you need to be there.”
Eyeing his friend, Cliff set down his fork and leaned against the back of the booth.
“No catch?” His friend started to shake his head, but Cliff added, “And don’t forget I can take out a man without lifting a finger, literally.”
He watched as Logan’s Adam’s apple pulsed up and down his neck as he swallowed.
“Fine. She may be trying to set you up with some of the local girls. She’s found a new hobby in matchmaking.”
Lifting another forkful of food to his lips, Cliff pointed out, “I don’t need help finding a woman.”
Logan gazed at him skeptically, but it was the truth. Cliff could go home with a willing woman if he ever took them up on their advances.
Cliff’s attention was drawn back to Logan as his friend slipped from the booth, leaning on the edge of the table with his fists balled up on the chipped Formica. “When was the last time you went on an actual date? When was the last time that you did anything for yourself?”
Cliff tried to think back. The last time he went on a date was. . .the day before he was shipped out at eighteen, leaving a grieving bride at home. Had it really been that long? By the blank look on Cliff’s face, Logan must have gotten his answer.
“Exactly. Don’t dismiss Mrs. Connelly next time she asks. Plus, it may not be me that gets the pleasure of convincing you next time.”
The Connelly family was a big one with six children, three of whom were brothers. Add in the husbands of the sisters and you have one gigantic clan of men he liked to consider friends. But he knew the family would always come first, and if that meant knocking some sense into Cliff until he understood his position as an adopted Connelly, then he wouldn’t put it past them. They’d do anything to please their parents.
“Fine, I’ll make sure to reconsider the invite next time. Now, can I get back to eating my breakfast before it gets cold?” Cliff asked trying to feign annoyance, but he knew that he was failing. His friend's face morphed into a delighted grin.
“See that you do. Avery, the kids, and I are here for a quick bite before going to the market. I know she would be thrilled if you joined us today.”
“Sure, I had plans to stop by the shop this morning if you guys don’t mind.”
“Yeah?” Logan asked, a glint of excitement flashed across the man’s face. “I had a few thoughts for some additions on the new tattoo you gave me. Maybe we can talk about it while we’re there.” He turned his head as the bell over the diner door chimed and Logan watched his family stroll into the diner and settle at a booth near the front. Their twins scurried across the bench seat on their knees, while their toddler sat on Avery’s lap.
Cliff envied his friend, both he and Avery deserved every ounce of happiness that had come their way. And if his instincts were correct, then Cliff foresaw another addition to their brood in another seven months or so.
“Just grab me when you’re ready to go. I’ll work my way through the paper while I wait.”
Nodding, Logan left with a glazed look of happiness on his face, seemingly as much in love today as he was when he first met his wife. It seemed that all of his friends got that same starry-eyed look on their faces when they saw their spouse or significant other. When he had been married, Cliff couldn’t remember ever wearing that expression when he saw his wife.
Shoulders nudged and brushed against Cliff as he traveled down the street of the market. As predicted, the idyllic weather had brought people from all over. Vendor tents and canopies lined the entire six blocks of Main Street, about four blocks more than average. The spectrum of colors cast the thoroughfare in a prism of colors.
A woman tugging a wagon filled to the brim with frames and canvases pushed passed their group, jostling Avery in the process. On instinct, Cliff reached out and wrapped an arm around Avery’s slender shoulders to help steady her on her feet. Logan stood on his other side pushing their oversized stroller through the crowd, his face fuming at the woman’s retreating back.
“You okay?” Cliff asked the petite woman as she brushed her hand across the arm that the stranger knocked into.
“Yeah,” she began, but as she stared up at Cliff something in his gaze must have registered with her. “You know, don’t you? Logan, did you tell him?”
Logan shouted back at her, “Tell him what?”
“Ugh, you’re like the freaking baby whisperer. We haven’t even told my family yet.” Cliff knew that Avery was trying her hardest to sound upset that he spoiled her secret, but her utter happiness quickly extinguished any forceful anger.
“I won’t tell anyone. You know that your secret was safe with me.”
Her blue eyes danced in elation as the corner of her lips tilted upward in a smile. “You’re like a vault. But someday, a woman is going to break that code. Mark my word.”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” he replied in mock fear.
“Are you patronizing me? This morning is getting weirder and weirder. First, the kids let me sleep in, now you’re being sarcastic and laughing, I don’t know what to expect next.”
With false hurt, Cliff holds a hand to his chest as he said, “I joke.”
“No, you don’t,” Logan chimed in as he steered the stroller toward the booth where Sydney and Dylan had set up in front of her bakery selling coffee and her legendary donuts.
As they reached the booth, Cliff waved off and continued toward his shop another block down the way. Logan and Dylan followed in line, leaving the women at the stand.
The bustling crowd of people seemed to part like the Red Sea as the trio made their way on the path. As they approached the shop, Cliff took in the vendor parked in front of his store. Shirley and Temple Fitzgerald sat in their chairs pretending to sell flowers as they sip on glasses of lemonade. And if Cliff were a betting man, he would put his life savings on those two women having a little something extra mixed in with their beverage.
Snagging his keys from his pockets, Cliff unlocked the door and gestured for his friends to enter the shop before turning the deadbolt to lock it again. One time he came into the shop during the Farmer’s Market
and a group of college-aged assholes swarmed his place. It was not a scenario he wanted to repeat, especially since they were rowdy and didn’t end up getting any ink. They were mainly there for the cool air.
“What kind of art were you thinking?” Cliff asked Logan as he stepped behind the front desk and took a peek at his calendar. He had a few appointments today, but the remainder of his week was pretty clear as his shift worker was set to start.
“I was thinking of getting a chest piece. I love the phoenix on my back and the thumb prints you just did for the kids, but I want to get something that represents Avery, you know?”
Nodding, Cliff pulled put a few designs he has been working on and showed them to his friend. They talked about different elements that Logan liked from each piece and together they decided to put them all together.
After they set up Logan’s appointment for later in the week, Cliff turned to Dylan, and the man sheepishly told him that he was there to invite Cliff to the Connelly dinner the next evening.
“Dude, please. Sydney was threatening to deny me.”
“Deny you what?” Cliff asked, enjoying watching his friend squirm in the hot seat. If Cliff was going to endure being set up at a family dinner, then his friend could stew for a few minutes.
“She has my cock and balls on a leash man. Do this for me and I’ll get any intel that I can on Alexis.”
That immediately had Cliff straightening his spine. Only a select few knew about his curiosity toward the raven-haired beauty.
“How do you. . .?” Cliff let the question hang in the air. His breath came in shallow pants as the terror that one of his secrets had come to light.
“You’re not the only one that still has a government job on the down-low. And we all saw the way you looked at her.”
Cliff hadn’t been given a chance to meet Alexis like the rest of the Connelly’s. He was rewarded with a meeting and a handshake as Dylan gave a low down on how they had planned to find Sydney when she was kidnapped. When their hands touched, Cliff felt like he had known her already, knew all of her deepest desires and secrets. It wasn’t just an operative meeting for him and he had wanted nothing more than to steal her away, strip her bare, and make her his.
Behind the Lens (Home in Carson Book 1) Page 3
